


ouroboros

by amberwing



Series: I Think I Shall Praise It [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dream Eater Riku (Kingdom Hearts), Established Relationship, M/M, Monsterfucking, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Thighfucking, they love each other SOOOOOO much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberwing/pseuds/amberwing
Summary: “Don’t laugh,” Sora told him, without venom but still refusing to meet his look. “You’re giving me feelings.”“Oh no,” Riku murmured, and the weight atop him shifted. Two big, calloused hands came to cup his cheeks, gently forcing him to look up. “Feelings. Can’t have that,” he teased, nose crinkling with amusement. His whiskers tickled Sora’s chin enough that he squirmed, trying not to giggle and failing.
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: I Think I Shall Praise It [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1459342
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	ouroboros

**Author's Note:**

> A friend demanded soft schmoopy monsterfucking and who am I to deny them? Credit for the concept of hungry, monstrous dreameater Riku goes to [Ilien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/llien/pseuds/llien%22) , with their absolutely breathtaking [Bone + Tissue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17537576). (THIS monstery dreameater Riku [looks a bit like this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EDk2cDgX4AE2-ez.jpg) in my head, but feel free to imagine him as you will!)

Riku’s tongue was bright blue like this, and the contrast of it against Sora’s skin—electricity coiling against sienna—was so pretty that Sora couldn’t quite breathe. He shifted beneath the comforting weight of the forearm pressed (carefully) across his chest, unable to stop himself from shivering as the hot, damp heat of it flowed from his fingertips to the heart of his palm. A little gasp escaped him at the tease of tongue at his inner wrist, following the dip between tendons, followed by a kiss against that same spot. There was the faintest pressure of massive incisors behind his lips. 

Riku’s eyes flicked up to his, heavy pink edging deeper as Sora stared back; another shudder ran through him, and Sora had to look away. He was blushing— _blushing_!—like they hadn’t been together for years, like they hadn’t clawed their ways into one another’s hearts in fiercest devotion and love more times than they could count. His cheeks burned, and it only got worse when Riku chuckled against his wrist and he felt those teeth, big enough to sever his arm in a single bite. The mere thought of that, that spike of unrealized (never _to be_ realized) danger, curled inside of him, talon-like, thunderous. 

“Don’t laugh,” Sora told him, without venom but still refusing to meet his look. “You’re giving me _feelings_.”

“Oh no,” Riku murmured, and the weight atop him shifted. Two big, calloused hands came to cup his cheeks, gently forcing him to look up. “ _Feelings_. Can’t have that,” he teased, nose crinkling with amusement. His whiskers tickled Sora’s chin enough that he squirmed, trying not to giggle and failing. 

“It’d be pretty disastrous,” Sora agreed breathlessly, and reached up to trace the long, dangerous line of Riku’s jaw with a palm. Riku leaned into it, and his eyes fluttered shut as Sora gently stroked the velvet-fine skin below one. His eyelashes were still pale like this, and so soft against Sora’s knuckles. “I don’t know what we’d do. It’d ruin everything this relationship is based on.”

“Mm,” Riku hummed. “And what is that, again?” 

Sora snorted, settling his other hand to cup Riku’s face in turn—as much as he could, considering his head was the size of an extremely large watermelon (a beautiful, sexy watermelon, at that); the low engine rumble of a purr was his reward, tingling against his fingertips. “Wild sex,” he answered, drawing back and forth, slow and careful, along Riku’s cheekbones. “ _Tons_ of it.” 

The purr doubled in volume, barely interrupted by a low huff of laughter. Riku’s eyes met Sora’s again, now pretty close to true magenta, and so fond. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“I _am_ the brains of this operation,” Sora pointed out. “See, I’ve got my pants off and everything.” 

Riku glanced downward, then back up, eyebrows arching and smile curling beneath Sora’s palms. “Huh, look at that. So you do.”

“Looking isn’t the point,” Sora drawled. “Do I have to give you a demonstration?”

Riku’s smile grew. “Maybe.”

“Come here,” Sora ordered, tugging at this face. The affected confusion on Riku’s face was adorable, and he didn’t budge, but Sora had outlasted tougher foes. He tugged again. “Riku, c’mon.” 

“Sora,” he asked, peering at him in rosy-eyed faux-bewilderment, ears lopsided, antennae bobbing. “Come _where_? I’m getting some mixed signals.”

Sora couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him, and he leaned up to whisper into Riku’s mouth, “On me, in me—your choice.” 

And that got him what he wanted: Riku capturing his lips in a soft-strange kiss. The bellows of Riku’s breath was hot against his tongue as Sora opened his mouth, tracing the sharp-edged spires of his incisors; he could feel the purr still, trembling through them both as he stroked Riku’s tongue with his own. Riku groaned softly against him, pressing back, and Sora was a little dizzy with it already, how he couldn’t reach much farther than Riku’s canines.

He tasted a bit like nightmare still—a little bitter, a little sweet—and Sora wanted to swallow it down, take the last remnants away. That was why they were here, of course—the dream eating, what it did to both of them—but Sora couldn’t help a bit of jealousy over the idea of Riku getting off from anything but him. Even _if_ the nightmares he ate were Sora’s, technically; it wasn’t like Sora remembered them when he woke up. All he knew was that Riku would be limp and sated in Sora’s arms when Sora opened his eyes and Sora hadn’t been there to see it, hadn’t been there to touch him, breathe him in, take in Riku, hard in his briefs as he fought and consumed in Sora’s name; Riku, body a straining arch as he came; _Riku_.

The hands cupping Sora’s face slid down, callouses catching against his throat and shoulders, massive talons trailing heat against his skin. Sora had to gasp a breath, and Riku’s mouth followed him as he shifted to press up into the prick of claws. Between them, Riku chuckled, and that couldn’t stand; Sora skated his hands back along the curve of Riku’s cheek, dug his fingers into the firm muscle of his long, long neck and pulled.

Riku let himself be dragged, let Sora bring them both down until the weight of Riku’s head was nestled between Sora’s shoulder and throat, the length of his neck delicious pressure along his sternum, stomach, groin. Claws pricked at his ribs. Sora let his head fall back against the pillows with a shuddering sigh, and rolled his hips against the heavy heat of Riku’s body. Riku’s teeth grazed the column of his throat, humming appreciation, a soft, “Love you like this.”

“Love _you_ like this,” Sora murmured back, only to gasp at the shift of Riku’s neck against his dick, hot and firm with muscle. His fingers tightened, curling into soft quills and tendrils, and Riku licked the soft skin behind his ear. His too-long tongue traced Sora’s jaw, chin, teasing at his lips for another open-mouthed kiss, deep and wet and decadent. A massive hand found its way along Sora’s outer thigh, palming possessively at the bone of Sora’s hip, fingers squeezing into the softer flesh of his stomach—and god, he could barely breathe around the weight of Riku’s tongue in his mouth. He sucked on it as best he could, cheeks hollowing around the supple thickness of it, groaning at how fucking _good_ it felt. Riku rumbled approval, claws digging into Sora’s side in a jolt of sharp pleasure-pain. 

Sora was trying to take it slow, _really_ trying, but it was hard to remember to keep the rhythm of his hips steady when Riku tasted so good, felt so good, sounded like he wanted to fuck Sora silly. The thought made his head spin, made him jerk upwards _hard_ with a needy whine. Riku pulled away enough to look down into Sora’s face, panting, and Sora followed the greedy back and forth of Riku’s pupils; he had to close his eyes after a moment against the heat of Riku’s gaze. 

“Never get tired of the view, do you?” he whispered. His heart hammered in his chest, frantic as a bird. The weight of Riku’s body lifted suddenly, and Sora gasped at the sudden chill air against his sweat-soaked skin. 

Riku’s other hand mirrored the first, gripping Sora’s opposite hip to hold him down. A frustrated hiss escaped through Sora’s teeth. “How could I?” Sora forced himself to look, up and up and up, past whiskers and little glowy bits and his adorable bat nose, and meet Riku’s eyes. They’d loved each other their whole lives, but even now, Sora was mystified (awed) by the shift and flick of Riku’s gaze, couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. He wondered if Riku thought the same of him, if he was equally unknowable, even if the idea of that was a little ridiculous. He was just… Sora, in the end.

“How could I ever?” Riku said, and one hand shifted to splay across Sora’s stomach, big enough to eclipse it with a single palm. Sora shuddered at the warm pressure of it. “You’re the most...” and Riku’s palm skated up the length of his body, callouses catching against Sora’s scars, to gently encircle a nipple with a fingertip, tiny sparks of pleasure that jittered down Sora’s spine. 

Sora met his eyes as seriously as he could—which wasn’t very serious, because his mouth kept trying to smile—before he let his hands skated down Riku’s neck to rest against his collarbone. “Don’t you start with the feelings again,” he threatened, only to lose his train of thought as Riku tugged distractingly at his nipple. “I’ll have to write you uh-up— _ah_ —”

He cut himself off with a gasp, entire body jerking as the hand still on his hip curled inward to encircle his thigh in its entirety. Oh god, Riku’s tongue was on his other nipple, teasing it so gently but it was _torture_ , jolts running down Sora’s spine that he couldn’t begin to fight. His back arched of its own accord only for Riku to press him back down again effortlessly. 

“God, Riku—” Sora squirmed, trying to translate the please-more-more-more into something Riku might actually pay attention to, sucked in a breath and rolled against the heavy iron grip of Riku’s claws. He was aching, twitching with every hot breath and brush of canines against his skin. He’d closed his eyes without meaning to, and pried them open again by force of will. Riku’s gaze caught his, so dark and deep, like a geode Sora had cracked apart to examine the secret crystalline innards, and he felt him follow Sora’s slow track down his body: muscle and bone, searing blue and magenta and gold. 

Sora hadn’t even touched him yet, not really, but he could see the violent blue bob of Riku’s dick between his legs, heavy and already glistening. He forced himself to look away, but his mouth was watering, and Riku’s cheeks had brightened with a hot blue blush. “You’re so gorgeous,” he managed, and Riku ducked his head back down against Sora’s belly, like that could hide his harsh intake of breath, the soft clatter of quills down his back. 

That got him what he wanted. Riku’s tongue ran a hot trail down Sora’s abs, curling around his navel, before ducking into the crease between his thigh and groin. Sora cursed, but it emerged a gasp as Riku trailed hot kisses down his inner thigh; his head was too big to really fit between Sora’s legs like this without squeezing his dick against his other thigh, and Riku knew it from the way he rubbed his cheek against him while he lapped at soft skin. 

Sora’s fingers found their way into the crest of quills on Riku’s brow and clutched, trembled, digging into the skin between them; his heart was hammering, each breath a harsh gasp: “Please, please, please, _Riku_ —” 

Teeth scraped so carefully at the twitching muscle of Sora’s thigh even as the hand that had been teasing at his nipple stroked down again, encircling his hip-bone possessively. “Sora,” Riku groaned into his skin, his voice so deep and ragged that Sora couldn’t even breathe for a moment.

No, he’d never get tired of this either: the knowing that Riku wanted him just as much, that he was precious and cherished and _desired_ —that they were an ouroboros, born to swallow one another until the end of the world.

And Riku’s mouth closed gently around him, lips carefully curled around the fangs, but Sora could still feel them, powerful and dangerous, as Riku sank slowly down his cock; Sora couldn’t see for a moment, vision static fighting against the heat, the pressure, the careful caress of his tongue. A delicious full-body shudder ran through him before he could stop it, fingers clutching hard into Riku’s quills. 

It was so easy to get lost in the liquid heat of it, the curl of Riku’s too-long tongue wrapping around him and _squeezing_ , wet and soft, sliding firm pressure, holding, lapping—hot breath against his groin each time Riku sank down—and he didn’t even need to: his mouth was big enough that Sora couldn’t reach the back of his throat, but Riku did it anyway while his tongue kept squeezing him, curling around him and then releasing in decadent waves, savoring like he had all the time in the world.

Which, he did. Sora was helpless to stop him; the pressure of Riku’s claws against his hips kept him trembling against the pillows, panting and clutching at Riku’s ears to try and make him go faster. That just got him a steady look, unwavering and hungry and so intense that Sora could barely breathe for the sight: of Riku swallowing him down, unmoved by the jerk and writhe of Sora’s legs at his sides. 

He wasn’t going to last—but he never did, not when they met here and Riku was like this: massive and awful and beautiful. Sora opened his mouth to say something, but it got swallowed in a high gasp as Riku’s fingers drew down to encircle the base of his dick, thick calloused fingers interspersed with hot tongue. “I’m— _ha_ —” Sora tried again, and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood as Riku’s tongue began to withdraw, squeezing all the way. “Fu- _ck_.” He looked down, and Riku’s hand had engulfed him so completely that just the barest bit of his head was visible above that huge, powerful fist, pink and beaded with precome. 

Riku met his eyes and smiled, and his tongue flickered out to lap at his slit with the delicacy of a cat, and Sora was _right_ on the edge at the sight. He clenched his teeth, throwing his head back with a exhalation of, “Riku, I—I’m gonna—” 

“Sora,” Riku murmured. “Look at me.” 

The claws still holding one of his hips dug in slightly, pricking him, and Sora whimpered. He forced himself to look again, to see Riku kiss the head gently, and Sora was trembling, hands shaking against Riku’s cheeks. Riku let his lips slide back and Sora could feel the pressure of teeth—careful, not scraping, just sliding the surface of those wicked knives against him, hot smooth hard curved dangerous all for him all for Sora.

Orgasm hit him like a physical blow, his body a collapsing arch from the impact, a thunderclap that resonated out of the epicentre of his bone marrow. His body shook and shook, the brick and mortar of him falling apart until he’d melted into the bedding, barely able to think for the slow crawl of contentment, warmth, exhaustion. The gentle caress of Riku’s tongue against him was comforting, and Sora found it in him to unclench his fingers and let his hands slide to cup Riku’s cheeks. When he finally managed to force his eyes open, Riku’s were closed, and he licked the last speck of come from his muzzle as Sora watched.

A long, low groan worked its way out of him, and with the unbelievable strength of a man in love, Sora managed to lever himself up to a lopsided seat, and Riku let him urge him into a languid kiss, open-mouthed, tasting himself: blood, come, sweat. No more toothachey nightmare sweetness, just—human things. Sora and Riku things. 

Yes, it was a little gross, but Sora couldn’t stop the swell of satisfaction and fondness in his ribs. Riku breathed a soft moan into his mouth, and Sora pulled back enough to meet his eyes, his lips brushing against Riku’s. “Love you,” he whispered, and placed a gentle kiss against the elaborate petals of his nose. “So much.” Another, against the bristly whisker-area that nearly made him sneeze; he saved it at the last minute by pressing his face full on into the tufty fur of Riku’s cheek, breathing in and out. He smelled exactly like himself: a little musky, a little sweaty, a little spicy from yesterday’s cologne. “Mmm. How do you still smell so good when you’re in my dreams?” 

Riku huffed a laugh, and Sora was suddenly gathered up with the casual possessiveness of a dog with its favourite toy into the sweaty warmth of Riku’s arms. “They’re _your_ dreams,” Riku remarked. “You tell me.” 

Sora frowned, squinting, before sighing and stretching to reach around pectoral muscle (huge), arm muscle (also huge), and wing muscle (probably the hugest) in his best approximation of a hug. He could feel Riku’s heart, still racing, through his ribs. “Guess I just like it that much.”

“Guess that’s why you still smell so good, too,” Riku said, and as if to emphasize it pressed his nose into Sora’s hair and inhaled; his exhale was a shaky groan, and his arms tightened slightly around Sora’s body. Sora caught a muffled, “Love you too,” against his scalp, surprisingly shy. Sora snaked an arm out to thread his fingers through Riku’s quills again, massaging slowly, until he felt Riku’s breath hitch.

“Can I take care of you?” Sora asked, leaning back enough that he could catch Riku’s eyes. His pupils dilated as Sora watched, before constricting again, his skin flushing a brighter blue. Sora raised his eyebrows, unable to stop himself from grinning, and Riku huffed again, smiling back. “Is that a yes?”

“I’d like that, yes,” Riku replied fondly, and dropped him back to the pillows like he hadn’t just been snuggling Sora like a teddy bear. Sora _oof_ ed, cursed, then wriggled himself back into a comfortable lounge—a lounge with a view, because he could follow the sleek, predatory lines of Riku’s body all the way down to his (slightly flagging, but Sora was going to fix that in just a second) cock. He let Riku see him looking, met Riku’s stare with his best half-lidded, coquettish glance.

Riku’s flush brightened, but he rolled his eyes, and Sora couldn’t stop himself from bursting into delighted laughter. “Order up!” he managed through giggles. “One Sora special for table 2, with extra cr—”

“Do _not_ ,” Riku interrupted fiercely, pouncing and shoving a hand over Sora’s mouth, “finish that sentence, or I am leaving this dream immediately.” His eyes were still bright pink, and creased into crescents of suppressed amusement.

Sora licked his palm, but that old technique hadn’t worked on Riku since they were like, six, and he didn’t budge. When Sora made a muffled, “I yield!” kind of noise, the hand lifted enough that he could say, with great gravitas, “You have no taste.” 

“I have excellent taste,” Riku told him gravely, bracing his palms against the pillows again. “You’re just a dweeb.” 

Sora tilted his head enough that he could, very awkwardly, look down his nose at him. “And _you’re_ a dork,” he pronounced, reaching up to idly play with a whisker. “I love you. Now fuck me.” 

The low chuckle Riku gave sent a shudder down Sora’s spine, and he reached with a foot to stroke along Riku’s side. Riku’s skin shivered against him, and a hand came to cup his chin again. “I’d like,” he said, a bit hesitant, and Sora watched the dart of his pupils avidly, breath coming quicker. Riku licked his lips. “To come on you.” 

Oh, fuck. Sora’s eyes fluttered shut, and he bit his lip. “Yeah,” he agreed, breath catching on some new tendril of arousal in his throat. “I’d like that too.”

Riku fingers tightened a little against his jaw, and his head dipped in a long, shaking breath. “Pull your legs up,” he whispered. “Close together.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sora agreed, and lifted his thighs, squeezing them together until they were slipping in his own sweat. He let his head fall back again, hands dropping to draw slowly down the backs of his thighs, pulling them in tighter to his stomach until his ass was on display; Riku’s harsh hiss of breath was encouragement enough. He opened his eyes to see what felt like miles of blue ribs and belly stretching over him as Riku crawled up, and then the hot, hard prod of his cock against his legs. 

He spread a little automatically, let Riku slide between his thighs slow and careful, and oh, god, he was so fucking big like this; even just trapped between his legs, he was dizzy with greed and lust and love. The skin of it slid decadently against his sweat-slicked inner thighs, tugging backwards when it met a hint of resistance, each strange bump and coil of it swallowed up and then released against Sora’s dick, Sora’s stomach. He could _feel_ Riku getting harder again, pulses and twitches as he squeezed his thighs tightly against him, could watch with hungry fascination as Riku’s thick head beaded with more hot, glistening precome. 

They were both gasping by the time Riku’s groin met the back of Sora’s thighs, the tip of his cock resting just above Sora’s navel, each heavy breath dragging wetness and heat against Sora’s abs. “God,” Sora whispered, clenching the muscles of his thighs and getting a heavy twitch in return, a quiet groan from Riku above his head. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You feel—” Riku began, and choked when Sora reached to encircle as much of him as he could, biting his lip again at the decadent texture: velvet soft skin over firm flesh, twitching against his fingers as he slowly stroked upwards. Riku exhaled hard as Sora drew his thumb up his head, the pad of it teasing delicately. 

“Don’t worry,” Sora murmured, squeezing him gently as he pulled his palm back down to his thighs and then steadying. “I’ve got you.”

With a ragged snarl, nearly a sob, Riku pulled back, slicking Sora’s thighs with hot precome, and then shoved back inwards, squeezing through Sora’s half-clenched fingers. The drag of it along his (soft, but still appreciative) dick and stomach was sinful; he bit his lip at the sight, the way Riku’s girth spread his fingers apart as his hips met the back of Sora’s thighs. He was the luckiest man alive.

Riku’s pace picked up at Sora’s appreciative hums, his breath coming in harsh pants past Sora’s head; the breeze of them tickled his hair around his ears, and when Sora raised his free hand to press against Riku’s heart, the frantic drum of it vibrating down into his own bone marrow. Riku moaned lowly as Sora dug his nails into the taut muscle there before sliding to grasp the wrist at his side, steadying himself as he tried to match the rhythm of Riku’s thrusts with his hand. 

“Ha—” Riku choked, and gasped as Sora arched his back a little more until the soft-hard-wet-hot- _indescribable_ texture of Riku’s cock was sliding more firmly against his stomach. “Harder—with your hand?” 

He always phrased these things like a question; Sora had told him so many times that he didn’t need to be so hesitant about it—but Riku was Riku. It was incredibly sweet. Sora squeezed tighter, bit his lip at the way Riku shuddered. “Good?” 

“Yeah,” and oh, god, Riku’s voice was a low growl that sent a long, toe-curling shudder down Sora’s spine. “Perfect— _fuck_ , you’re perfect,” rolled through him in a thunderclap. Sora couldn’t stop a little whine from escaping him, nor stop himself from trying to roll his hips up in time, give Riku more pressure, more everything.

Riku’s thighs were spread outside Sora’s own, and squeezed tighter against him to keep him steady as Riku’s rhythm started to fray, unravel; his entire world had been reduced to the gleam and coil and tremor of Riku’s body, caging him in from every angle. Sora closed his eyes, panting, and jerked hand and thighs in time to Riku’s next thrust—and that was it; Riku inhaled sharply and then let out a deep, muffled groan against the pillows, spilling into Sora’s fingers, onto the sweat-slick panes of his stomach and chest, in a couple of final, stuttering jerks of his hips.

The feeling of giving Riku this, of _having_ Riku like this, of the pool of hot come slowly slipping down the curve of his ribcage and stomach to drip onto the pillows, the softening pulse of Riku’s cock in his hand... How was Sora so lucky? How could he love so much, so deeply that he felt like his chest might burst? 

When Riku finally stilled, cock a heavy, satisfied weight across Sora’s belly, Sora tilted his head back to see his face; Riku’s mouth hung open in heaving breaths, and his entire body was shaking as he held himself up. Each tremble brightened and faded the whorls and spots of glow down his sides, up his throat. 

“You’re amazing,” Sora told him, and Riku managed a laugh, rough and exhausted and so _happy_ , before shifting to slowly collapse beside Sora in a clatter of quills and shift of wings. One massive arm draped over Sora’s shoulder, heavy and comforting, and Sora squirmed in close to press his face into the curve of Riku’s neck, just below his jaw. 

“I try,” Riku said after a moment, still breathless. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.” 

“Yup,” Sora agreed, to a huff of laughter. “What?” 

A long, satisfied sigh vibrated through Riku’s chest. “Nothing,” he murmured. “Just agreeing.” 

“Sap.”

“Mmhm.” 

Sora had nearly drifted off, content (if extremely sticky, but this was a dream), when Riku sighed again, less happily. “We should wake up.”

Sora groaned into his chest. “Do we have to?” 

“You’re welcome to stay,” Riku told him, and Sora squirmed enough to sit up and squint at him. Riku raised an eyebrow. “I’ll go by myself to get a croissant.” As Sora’s mouth fell open in offense, he tapped a claw against his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe even a chocolate one.”

“You fight dirty,” Sora accused. Riku’s grin was wide, sharp, and very white—and then he was gone, with a near-audible _pop_ of space that had previously contained a very large amount of mass suddenly losing said mass. Sora gaped at the empty space for half a second before rushing after him, with such speed that when he opened his eyes again his vision was full of bright spots.

Riku’s laughter filtered in over the painful pop and crackle of his eardrums trying to adjust to—different pressures, different realities, whatever—and Sora swatted blindly in the direction he thought it might be coming from. His hand slapped limply against what felt like Riku’s arm, only to be grabbed and tugged; whining, he let himself be pulled, spilling into Riku’s human-again lap and going boneless.

“How could you _leave_ me?” he demanded petulantly, pouting. “And not even for _good_ croissants? You know the local bakery’s terrible.”

Riku’s eyes were bright crescents of happiness, clear and green, as he swooped down to kiss the tip of Sora’s nose. “I do know,” he said. “That’s why we’re going to the Grand Bistrot, and you’ve got to be awake to convince Little Chef to feed us.”

“Alright,” Sora conceded, and propped himself up to return the peck, lightly, pausing long enough to feel the flutter of Riku’s eyelashes against his cheek, the warmth of his breath against Sora’s chin, the soft curl of his lips into a smile. “But you’re driving.”


End file.
